


Paradisus

by tentacledicks



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 09:11:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentacledicks/pseuds/tentacledicks
Summary: Chicago has shitty weather. Aiden's pretty over it.





	Paradisus

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh continued references to Damien/Aiden, offhand mentions of infidelity, and a _really_ toxic open relationship all shoved in the background of this. Mostly it's about Aiden wanting to get dicked down though.

Three in the morning on a shitty Chicago night, when the weather was just warm enough that what should have been snow was a sickly, persistent slush instead. Piles of it went yellow on the sides of the iced-over roads, even though the rain itself couldn’t decide if it wanted to be solid or liquid. The worst kind of nights to be out in, either in a car or on foot, and Aiden was out anyways because he was a goddamn _fucking_ idiot.

Two words: fuck Damien. Two more words: fucking gangsters. Another three just to round things out: fuck his life.

Wiping the blood off his upper lip, Aiden hunched his shoulders in further and turned his head into the freezing slurry that kept coming down around him. Should’ve stolen a car, but he didn’t trust the roads this time of night with this kind of weather, and the Loop came far enough north. That was the excuse he was using for not heading west instead, out to where Nicky would’ve had a couch for him to crash on and a warm meal waiting for him in the morning. He shouldn’t dump his shit on her anyways, not with a newborn in the house—if she was getting any sleep at all, he didn’t want to disturb it by waking Lena up.

He didn’t have a better reason than the trains for being up in the Mad Mile anyways. If Damien was too busy with his soon-to-be ex wife to make time for Aiden, that was fucking—whatever. A couple minutes with a set of lockpicks and he’d have been back into the apartment anyways. The real trick was that Aiden didn’t _want_ to go back to that cold apartment, piled up with trash from two confirmed bachelors (one still married) that didn’t bother cleaning that often. He didn’t want to be fucking alone on New Years. Fucking sue him.

There was somewhere close to three hundred thousand dollars in twenties buried in the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Robbing the Chicago South Club was stupid at the best of times, but Damien needed liquid funds fast and Aiden wanted to pay off Nicky’s hospital bills before she ever got hit by them. It would’ve been a better bet if his _fucking partner_ had actually been on the line to help him out, but god forbid Damien ever do something like that. He got squeamish about wetwork, even if his fast-talking was the only thing that got Aiden into places like that in the first place.

The condo building’s heat was up high when Aiden stepped through the doors with his guest pass. It should’ve expired months ago, but he’d cloned the code and kept it active instead. Hadn’t had a reason to really use it before now, but he was pissed and he had a lot of money with him. His places to go were pretty limited with both of those facts in mind.

A couple of guards sat at the front desk and one of them started to reach under it. Aiden ignored them completely, heading straight for the elevators while holding his guest pass up. As an alibi, it didn’t really pass muster, but it worked long enough that neither of them hit that emergency call button. Good enough.

The elevator was even warmer than the lobby had been, and he sighed as he tipped his head back and basked in it. In the mirrors along the doors, he could see his reflection—a pretty sorry fucking sight, and no wonder the guards reached for the panic button first and the guest list last. His right eye was purpling and swelling up, bruising smeared down the cheekbone and line of his jaw on that side as well. The swelling of his nose and the blood smeared all across his face said a lot about how badly it had been broken, and the blood staining his shirt and his knuckles didn’t help. The sweat jacket he was wearing was like the white shirt underneath it: too thin for the weather, too stained for polite society, too soaked through for him to really get much relief from the heat of the building.

This was probably about as stupid an idea as robbing some of Lucky Quinn’s money guys, but that just meant Aiden wasn’t going to change course. He was full of stupid ideas tonight. Without anyone around to stop him, he had every excuse to think up stupider ones.

The condo was close to the top floor, but it wasn’t the penthouse. The first time he’d been here, he’d been torn between reluctant admiration and baffled offense at the sheer expense of the place. When almost every other fixer was schlepping it around with the rest of the lower classes, picking up the jobs that affiliated gangsters were too good to do themselves, of course this guy would live in a fucking three million dollar apartment. It wasn’t just a matter of pride, it was a matter of _showing off_.

‘See,’ the condo said, ‘I’m so good I don’t even need to hide it. I’m so good I know I’ll never get caught.’

Pretty fucking fitting for Jordi Chin, in all honesty. Just like its owner, the condo was all flash and no substance, built on the back of blood money and hiding a couple thousand skeletons in the closet. But he’d bet that the heating worked just fine, and right now, that was the only thing Aiden cared about.

He knocked on the door to be polite, then pulled his lockpicks out of his back pocket. The case was just as soaked as the rest of him, the picks frigid despite his body heat. With how numb his fingertips were, it took a couple tries before he could hold them right, and even then the slow shivers starting to wrack his body were fucking with his dexterity. Might not be his best pick job for the night.

The door unlocked before he could get more than the first two tumblers undone. Aiden pulled his picks out quickly, standing back up as it swung open, fingers still shaking too hard for him to properly stow them back in their case. Jordi stood in the doorway blinking blearily, wearing only an undershirt and a pair of briefs. Since Aiden knew for a damn fact that Jordi slept naked, that probably meant he’d thrown it on to see who the hell was trying to break into his apartment.

“You look like shit, Pearce,” he said, stepping back after a long moment of calculation. It was all the invitation Aiden expected to get, so he ducked past Jordi to dump his duffel bag on the table.

“Long night. After Kinderhook, you said I could come over anytime I wanted, right?” The bag was soaked through too, and after a moment, Aiden pulled a hand towel out from one of the serving cabinet drawers. It wouldn’t be a perfect solution, but it should work to keep the bag from ruining the wood. “I wanted. So I’m here.”

“Yeah, fucking whatever, but a little warning next time would be nice.” The door shut, lock sliding into place again with a soft click. A moment later, Jordi’s fingers slid into his hair and dragged his head back, nearly sending Aiden over backwards when he didn’t compensate for the pull fast enough.

Jordi’s hands were warm in comparison to the bone-deep chill that infected his whole body, winter spitting in his face as revenge for his arrogance the rest of the year. Aiden wanted to sink into that warmth, sink into the promise that hadn’t been stated when Jordi asked him over a year and a half ago after the fuckup that had been Kinderhook. At the time, he’d said no. Now, eighteen months later and eighteen months wiser, he wanted to say yes.

He just needed Jordi to ask the question.

“You’re fucking freezing,” Jordi said, but there was a little less acid in his voice this time. “Get that shit off so I can throw it in the dryer. What the fuck were you thinking wearing those clothes in the middle of December?”

“January now,” Aiden corrected, just to be a shithead. It earned him a grunt and Jordi shoving his head back down, but the glide of fingertips down the back of his neck was still gentle.

He didn’t know why he wanted to pick a fight with Jordi, not when he was the one that had come there in the first place. It was the sort of thing he’d do with Damien when they were both in a bad mood and needed to fuck it out, but Jordi wasn’t the same way. For all he knew, this was going to get him kicked out again, and for what? Some stupid argument about the month?

Jordi didn’t give him the chance to succumb to his worse nature, walking back to the bedroom. It left Aiden alone in the living room, the windows still open to a view of the lake in the midst of a winter storm. After a couple seconds, he slowly began to peel his clothes off, kicking off his shoes and leaving the whole soaked mess in the laundry room off the hallway. That could be dealt with in the morning.

The shower was going when he reached the bedroom. Aiden glanced at the bed longingly before turning towards the sound, ducking into the light. After so long in the darkness of the rest of the house and the dimmed lighting of the condo halls, it was a shock having the fluorescent lights blinding him. At least the steam was already burning away the clammy chill that the slush had soaked into his bones.

Jordi’s hair was slicked down to his skull when Aiden came into the shower, skin already reddened by the hot water. Before Aiden could announce his presence, Jordi’s hand snaked out and dragged him close, pressing the bruised and broken mess of his body into the pale muscle of Jordi’s own.

Even without the water hitting him, Jordi’s skin was almost too hot for him to handle. God, but it felt nice.

“Did you set your nose?” Jordi asked, his other hand burying itself in Aiden’s hair again. The warmth of his body was intoxicating, threatening to drag Aiden down like weights around his limbs. Maybe that was the burgeoning edges of hypothermia instead, but Aiden wanted to pretend like it was all Jordi—Jordi’s skin, Jordi’s muscle, Jordi’s calloused palm sliding over his side and down his spine like a promise.

He remembered after a few moments that Jordi had asked a question. “Yeah, I set it before I left. One of them got a good hit in with the butt of his rifle.”

“Uh-huh. Well, try not to get hit in the face again. It’ll stick like that.” And then Jordi didn’t say anything else, only stood there and held him as steam built up in the tight confines of the shower. His fingers smoothed through Aiden’s hair, slowly wetting it and pulling the dried blood out from the harsh cut on Aiden’s scalp. Eventually, he rotated, forcing Aiden to shuffle a little until he was under the spray properly.

It didn’t burn, now that he’d been acclimated to the heat. It did take the last of the ice out of him, warming him through even as it rinsed the rest of the blood off his skin. Jordi’s hands were a constant, the only thing keeping Aiden awake as he basked in the steady burn. If he’d done this alone, he might have passed out in the shower.

Either too soon or not soon enough, Jordi sighed again and started to pull away. “Come on, we need to get you toweled off and tucked into bed or something. Jesus. Out in the cold like that after getting your shit kicked in, you dumb motherfucker.”

“Hey. I was doing the shit kicking, I’ll have you know,” Aiden said, blinking tiredly. When had he let his eyes shut?

Jordi grunted in disagreement, then reached around him to turn the water off. Without giving Aiden a chance to protest, he dragged him out of the shower and into the slightly colder bathroom. With his body finally warmed up again, Aiden groaned at the shift in temperature, unable to help the wordless complaint as he started to dry off. In front of him, Jordi did the same, drying off the glorious spread of muscles before chucking his towel over Aiden’s head and scrubbing briskly.

He couldn’t decide if it was nice or if it was infantilizing. When Jordi bodily dragged him out of the bathroom as well, Aiden fell firmly on the side of ‘infantilizing’. He was too tired to protest though, tired enough that he let Jordi shove him down onto the bed and climb in beside him.

“You know, I was planning on sex,” Aiden told him, squinting at the wall of windows in here too. Somehow, Jordi leaving the blinds open seemed wrong. Inviting disaster, even if he knew that no one could get a shot through off the lake in the middle of a storm.

“Oh, were you now? Planning on sharing that with me _before_ you tried to break into my place or after?” Jordi’s hand smoothed over his stomach, his chest pressing into the curve of Aiden’s spine. The sheets had been cold when Aiden slipped between them, but their combined heat warmed them up quickly enough.

“Before.” Aiden thought about it, about the furious, directionless rage that had pulled him all the way up to the north side of Chicago. “Probably. If I’d remembered.”

“You’re a fucking mess right now. You’re so lucky that’s one of the things I find attractive about you.” Jordi’s mouth dragged over the curve of his shoulder, beard scraping along the heat-sensitive skin. A shudder rolled through him, his bruised cheek pressing into the cold pillow underneath his head. 

“So is that a yes?” Aiden asked, more breathless than he meant to sound. It had been a while since he’d bottomed with Damien’s preferences in bed mostly leaning towards ‘lazy’, and Jordi’s body behind his left nothing to the imagination.

“Mm. That’s a good question. I guess it depends on whether or not you actually know what you’re getting into. Think you can take a dick?” Jordi’s hips rolled, his cock slowly stiffening as he dragged his nails over Aiden’s hip, shifting to nudge Aiden’s legs apart.

“Slap some lube on first and I can handle it,” he said, letting his eyes fall shut as he rocked back against the steady pressure of Jordi’s cock against his ass. For all that his body ached with pain, the slow burn under his skin was worse, an itchy tension that had started somewhere around the time he’d finished killing his way through Club goons and realized Damien intended to be out of the apartment for the rest of the night.

“I cannot fucking believe you’ve actually had anal sex before. What, you’re not going to ask me to go slow or anything either?” Jordi’s fingers curled around the base of his shaft, stroking up its length as Aiden breathed out a soft noise of want. Unlike Damien, Jordi’s hands weren’t soft, but they had all the same deftness, honed with guns instead of computers. His palm was warm where it pressed into his balls when Jordi moved his hand lower to squeeze Aiden’s sack. “Oh my god, you really aren’t straight.”

“Everyone says that,” Aiden groaned, reaching a hand back to fist it in Jordi’s damp hair. The cock grinding between his cheeks was temptation incarnate, almost enough that he was willing to say fuck the lube—but no, he’d _really_ regret that. Still.

“It’s because you _act_ like it, I hope you know that. Up until you showed up on my doorstep at ass o’clock in the morning, I was pretty sure you’d turned me down.” Jordi mouthed over his neck, then bit down hard enough to bruise. With a ragged gasp, Aiden arched back, hips jerking up into the fist still curled around him.

“I wasn’t.” He kept his eyes squeezed shut, the better to imagine Jordi’s face as he bent Aiden over and pounded into him. Fuck, it had been so long since he’d— “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Oh, you’re a _bratty_ bottom too. That’s hilarious.” With a soft snort, Jordi finally let go of his cock and rolled away. Even with the heat on, Aiden felt the loss keenly, his back going cold almost the instant Jordi was away. Opening his eyes, he half-rolled after Jordi, ending up on his back while he watched the other man dig out lube and a condom.

His hands closed on the pillowcase now that Jordi was out of reach, his knuckles black with bruising against the pale cotton. He’d have to explain those, along with the broken nose and the bite on his neck. If he didn’t remember to wash his clothes before leaving, the blood would stand out too. At least the cracked ribs weren’t as visible from the outside.

Part of him wondered if Damien would even notice him missing. The rest of him, aware of the other love nests scattered around the city now that Aiden was permanently living in one, didn’t really give a shit. This was the game they were playing: partners in everything and exclusive in nothing, picking up jobs and dates and skills without any consideration towards the other half. Damien had a wife and kid, Aiden had a real family. Damien broke into Proviblue’s client database to sell the information, Aiden did Kinderhook. 

Damien had an endless stream of club goers, and Aiden…

With the condom rolled over his thick, dark cock, Jordi climbed back on the bed and grinned at the look of open want on Aiden’s face. Every smile Jordi had was mean, from the thin smirks to the mocking grin he was wearing now—but it was the kind of mean that wasn’t personal. They knew each other well enough now that Aiden could tell that Jordi was genuinely interested, faint mockery aside.

“You’re going to bleed all over my sheets if I jam your face into the pillow,” Jordi said, hitching one of Aiden’s legs up over his shoulder. With one hand, he groped around for a pillow to lift Aiden’s hips a little higher, while the other drifted over the slowly blackening bruises on Aiden’s chest.

“I can always set my nose again,” Aiden replied, shuddering under the tender touch. He didn’t care about the fact that it might leave his face a bruised and bloody mess all over again, or the fact that he already couldn’t breathe out of his nose. He just wanted, for once, to be used like this.

“Well _yeah_ , obviously, but the problem is I don’t want to actually wash all of my pillowcases again. You know how hard blood is to get out white Egyptian cotton? This is goddamn twelve-hundred count.” Jordi’s thumb dragged over his hole, dry the first time and then slick with lube after he dumped it on his fingers for the second.

Sucking a sharp breath through his teeth, Aiden pushed his head back into the pillow. The cool fabric wasn’t so cool anymore, already heating up underneath his skin, dampening with sweat and the lingering water in his hair. “Okay, but you’re still going to fuck me, right?”

“Jesus, you’re whiny.” Without hesitation, Jordi pushed two fingers into him, driving a groan out of his throat. “Yeah, I’m still going to fuck you. You’re tight as hell though, sure you don’t want me to take you tenderly for your virginal first time?”

“Fetish of yours?” he managed, gasping again when Jordi’s fingers rocked deeper into him. It had been a while since he’d been fucked, _really_ fucked, not just fingered himself in the shower. He had to force himself to relax around the pressure, to take the anticipation coiling viciously through him and smooth it out, cock twitching with every shift of Jordi’s fingers.

“Oh, now _I’m_ the one with the fetish?” Jordi’s mouth found his leg, dragging kisses along curve of his calf muscle, his fingers pulling free. The moment of emptiness didn’t last long, Jordi’s hands spreading his legs wide as he guided his slicked up length to Aiden’s hole.

Whatever response Aiden wanted to make was lost in a guttural moan, the thick swell of Jordi’s cockhead forcing him open. God, but the burn of it was good, the stretch around something bigger than he’d taken in _years,_ the way Jordi took all the little pieces of him and stitched them together into a single, pleasurable whole. Jordi was moving slow, working his way in with lazy, short thrusts, and even that was almost too much.

A litany of swears spilled out of Aiden’s mouth, his fingers tightening in Jordi’s precious fucking pillowcases. Much as he wanted to be a shithead and keep poking Jordi until he snapped, the drag of Jordi’s tip over his prostate was too much. Jordi’s lube-slick fingers shoved one of his legs down, the other still hooked firmly over on shoulder, and Jordi laughed softly as he pulled out slowly before driving back in with a hard thrust.

“Okay, so, we should’ve done this sooner,” he said, his dry voice tight with an emotion Aiden couldn’t name but hoped desperately was lust. Either way, the sound of it sent fire over his skin, his hips jerking when Jordi pulled out again and slammed back in.

“You think?” Aiden managed to choke out, chest heaving despite the ache it spread across his ribs. It didn’t matter that he was the one who hadn’t come forward, that he hadn’t taken Jordi up on the offer before now. Jordi should’ve _pushed_. Jordi should’ve demanded, like he was demanding now, forcing his way into Aiden like his body was a toy to be played with.

Above him, Jordi grinned, shifting his grip on the leg hooked over his shoulder. Without any warning, he bent Aiden fully in half, driving his cock in to the hilt. The force of it drove another desperate moan out of him, Jordi’s body heavy against his when he leaned in and whispered, “We should do it again sometime.”

Jordi’s nails bit into his skin and Aiden gasped, finally untangling his own fingers from the pillowcase and burying them in Jordi’s hair instead. He didn’t let Jordi pull away, refused to let him do anything but fuck into his too-eager body, digging his heel into Jordi’s back. The low groan it earned him was enough, Jordi’s composure finally cracking as he began to thrust hard.

His dick was caught tight between their stomachs, the friction rubbing up against his sensitive skin as Jordi fucked into him. The air burning into his lungs was too hot, choking him as Jordi’s bearded cheek pressed against his own. His thigh ached from the position it was forced into, almost with the same ache as his body under Jordi’s weight, with Jordi’s cock pounding into him. In the end, he was a body to be used. Exactly as he wanted.

Aiden’s voice hitched on a frantic, desperate gasp as Jordi pinned him to the mattress, heedless of whatever damage his body had already taken. With his orgasm so close, he found himself caught on a desperate spiral of _want_ , clinging to the heady rise of pleasure that built as static under his skin and a live wire running down his spine. His dick was too sensitive for Jordi’s ungentle touch, each hard drive of Jordi’s cock against his prostate sending an answering lightning strike up its length, Jordi’s teeth a point of pure pleasure where they sunk into the skin on his neck. It was too much, too much and not enough at all, but still so much better than he could have dreamed of.

He keened Jordi’s name, voice cracking on the sound of it as he arched back against the sheets. Against the shell of his ear, Jordi gasped in time, hips jerking hard until he was pushing Aiden into the mattress and forcing him down, making him take every drop of pleasure that Jordi allowed.

It wasn’t until he’d shuddered himself to pieces that Aiden realized Jordi had come too, his heavy weight sprawled across Aiden’s body in a careless embrace. With his fingers still buried in Jordi’s damp hair and his legs wrapped firmly around Jordi’s body, he couldn’t process the thought, the way Jordi went lax and still on top of him even as his chest heaved like bellows against Aiden’s own.

He’d been chasing this since the moment he’d left the Club warehouse, his tactical baton dripping with gore and his clothes covered in blood, his own and that of everyone else.

“Fuck,” he breathed, helpless and longing, mouth pressed to the stubbled curve of Jordi’s cheek. His own half-grown beard was far, far worse, but given how fastidious both Jordi and Damien were, it was a rare treat for him to feel stubble on his lips at all. Aiden reveled in it, in the visible reminder that Jordi had gotten out of bed for him, thrown everything to the side for him on a moment’s notice.

Maybe he should have felt bad about that, dragging Jordi out of bed at such an early hour, but…

“We are _definitely_ doing this again,” Jordi groaned, his mouth finding the pale skin of Aiden’s throat and leaving bruises along its length. He was staking a claim, and there was no way that he hadn’t figured out that Aiden was technically taken already. Even still, he was making a point of it.

Aiden gave him an answering groan of his own, breathing out with a shudder when Jordi finally pulled free. The ache in his ribs mirrored the ache along his thighs, the kiss of a body beaten to a pulp resonating with a body brutalized into a pleasure that it hadn’t even begun to comprehend. God, but it had been so long since he’d felt like this. Taken to pieces and put back together again, ruined and made whole all in the same breath. Sex with Damien was good, but it couldn’t hold a candle to _this_.

Jordi’s weight moved off of him, the condom peeled off and thrown in the trash as Aiden tried to convince his body that relaxing was in its best interests. The sheets under his back were soft and silky, Jordi’s pillows like a tender embrace around the curve of his skull as Aiden let his hands fall back against them again. The condo was warm against the heavy snows of winter, the heating chugging at a level that dried everything out. Maybe in the summer it would have been miserable, but after the memory of being soaked through with cold, Aiden ate the dry heat up, his sweat-slick skin uncaring as he sprawled out over the sheets.

“Fuck,” he said again, head tipped to admire Jordi as he stretched before climbing back into bed. “You really _are_ as good as you claim.”

“Uh, obviously,” Jordi said with a sneer, hefting the sheets and blankets up over both of them. Part of him insisted he should leave, before things could get awkward, before Damien could ask questions, but the logical part of him pointed out that Aiden had never thrown his clothes in the dryer. If for no other reason, he couldn’t leave until then.

“Forgive me for being skeptical,” Aiden said, voice dry despite the raw _want_ that had overtaken him mere minutes before. It was easier to fall into the same patterns of jibe and response, barbed comments that carried more behind them than he wanted to acknowledge. A year ago, he would have ignored it. A year ago, he was an idiot.

“I won’t.” Jordi declared it with all the snotty arrogance of a trust fund kid, like he hadn’t earned this condo on the blood and tears of a thousand dead men first. “I won’t forgive you for this ever. I’m going to hold a grudge like you wouldn’t even fucking _believe_ , Pearce. Ten years from now, when I pop you one through the heart, you’re going to say, ‘damn, I should’ve been nicer to Jordi’.”

“Uh-huh.” He let his eyes slip closed, the warmth of Jordi’s body curving around his own as Jordi’s arms curled around his waist. “I’ll do that.”

“Just watch,” Jordi said, voice going soft as he pressed his lips to Aiden’s shoulder. The thud of his heart was the metronome that Aiden based his breathing against, a rhythm perfect for soothing him to sleep. “You’d be amazed at how much I can do for you when you’re nice to me.”


End file.
